


Human Affairs

by castiowl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, Hipster Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Wade Wilson, Minor Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Minor Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, SBBAU18, Stucky Big Bang AU 2018, The Office, Unrequited Love, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 07:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17997899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiowl/pseuds/castiowl
Summary: Bucky is hopelessly in love with hipster-wannabe secretary Steve Rogers at their office job at Avengers Security. Only problem is, Steve is engaged to an asswipe named Brock Rumlow. Office relationships are complicated.[The Office AU no one asked for, written for the 2018 Stucky AU Big Bang]





	1. Happy Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful artists billie_vivienne (AO3) (@jjk2357 on Twitter) and knowledgeiscake (AO3) (@hrunting on Tumblr)!
> 
> billie_vivienne made the graphic posted at the beginning of this first chapter. knowledgeiscake made instagram posts that can be found in chapter 3.

  


[graphic by my wonderful artist, billie_vivienne]

* * *

“I think Sam is into Natasha.”

“Oh, you think?”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Nothing gets past you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Bucky grins at Steve and leans forward on Steve’s desk. “I’ll raise you one. I think Sam and Natasha are already together.”

Steve narrows his eyes and pushes his glasses up with the back of his hand. “How would you even prove that?”

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly and says, “I got my ways, Rogers.”

He earns a roll of Steve’s eyes for that. “Yeah. All right.” 

They both turn to look at Sam who is ten or so feet away, typing away at his desk. He senses the unwanted stares and glances up. Bucky is quick to turn back to Steve, stifling a laugh in his fist. 

“Y’all think you’re so cute,” Sam says, returning to his work.

Bucky returns to his desk adjacent to Sam’s and says, “Hey, you said it. Not me.”

Sam gives him a sour look.

Bucky’s not sure what he did to get on Sam’s bad side, but it’s been this way since day one at Avengers Security. Half the time he thinks Sam is pulling his leg. The other half of him believes Sam might actually murder him behind the dumpsters in the parking lot. 

“Whatever you’re planning, leave me out of it,” Sam says.

“You’re definitely not a part of it,” Bucky replies, eyes down and pretending to be very captivated by what’s on his screen (an aborted game of solitaire).

Sam stops typing and looks over at Bucky, then up at Steve, then back at Bucky. Bucky schools his face into a concentrated frown. “I’m serious, guys. I’m about to reach my quota for this month and if you fuck with me today, I’m gonna go off.”

“Wilson, chill. When have I ever interrupted your work?”

“Are you fucking kidding—”

“All right, everyone, heads up!” From behind Bucky, Tony exits his office and claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “We got someone from corporate coming in to talk about numbers or…some shit. I don’t know. I don’t care. I’ll be in my office. You all, however, will be in the meeting room in ten minutes, so please be very accommodating to…” Tony frowns and looks at a sticky note in his left hand, “Wade Wilson.” He claps his hands together again and smiles. “Have fun.” Tony disappears back into his office where he will probably remain, blinds down and closed.

Bucky’s head falls back and he sinks into his chair. A boring corporate meeting might actually kill him at this point. He’ll have to come up with some game to keep him awake. The TV logo corner game probably won’t be applicable, but he might be able to come up with a bingo scorecard if he can think of enough erroneous business jargon in the next ten minutes.

Bucky’s computer chimes and he lifts his head to read the instant message that’s popped up on his screen.

STEVEN G. ROGERS (9:42 AM): bingo?

And that’s why he loves him.

Bucky curbs that thought before it has a chance to even leave the gate, instead typing an enthusiastic “YES” to Steve before turning his attention back to Sam. “Wade Wilson. You got a brother or something at corporate?”

Sam’s jaw clenches noticeably and he doesn’t look up right away. When he does, he’s looking past Bucky’s seat toward the front entrance to the office. “If I did,” Sam says, “he wouldn’t look like _that_.”

 _That_ , as it turns out, is six feet of lean muscle in a tailored suit, soft brown hair perfectly pushed back from his Greek statue face and beautiful blue eyes, and a smile that would’ve made Bucky’s knees weak if he’d been standing. 

“Hi. Wade Wilson,” the man says and offers his hand to Steve at the reception desk, who takes it with a polite smile. 

While Steve shows Wade the meeting room and helps him set up his presentation, Bucky takes the opportunity to remind himself that he is a 28-year-old man with no prospects stuck at a dead end job selling security systems to people who don’t know they could easily be doing the entire portion of his job online. He is not going to be the top choice for a guy like Corporate Official Wade Wilson.

Besides, his feelings are…complicated. He’s been single for so long, and he can’t help but draw a connection straight to Steve who has thoroughly ruined Bucky’s prospects. Every once in awhile, Bucky thinks he’s kicked it, that he really does think of Steve as just his friend—his _best_ friend. But then Steve will do something so mundane, so innocuous, and it will level Bucky to the ground and he’s reminded—again and again—that he is head over heels for this five-foot-four, asthmatic, rail thin hipster secretary.

And because the universe truly hates Bucky, Steve is in love with his fiancé, an insipid adult bully named Brock Rumlow who works in the warehouse on the bottom floor of their building. He’s the kind of guy who probably would’ve shoved Steve in a locker fifteen years ago, but what does Bucky know? Maybe it really is true love.

Apparently, not even Wade Wilson can make a business meeting interesting. Bucky swears his vision turns to static when the first bar graph is pulled up on the projector screen. Bucky and Steve are conveniently sitting in their favorite spots at the back of the room behind Thor and Fury, both large men who hide most of their workplace deviances from any exceptionally boring presenters, which they all tend to be. 

Fortunately, Steve came through on those bingo cards and Bucky has four across when he hears it.

“Sports metaphor,” he whispers to Steve and shows him his board which is hidden behind a notepad he’s probably supposed to be using to take notes or something. Bucky does a stifled version of a fist pump while Steve rolls his eyes.

“I only needed one more,” Steve replies, showing off his own board. True to his word, he’s only missing QUOTE: GOOD FOR THE COMPANY AS A WHOLE.

“Tough break, Rogers,” Bucky says. “You owe me lunch.”

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” 

Bucky and Steve both jump at the intrusion and Bucky can practically feel Steve’s face turning red at being called out by Wade. Bucky is quick to regain traction, however, and says, “Not at all. We were just discussing if these numbers are going to be reflected in the year’s AIP report since the contract didn’t start up until April of last year.”

Wade cocks an eyebrow and a smile pulls at the side of his mouth. “They will, and I’ll be discussing that in just a moment.” Wade turns back to the board and Bucky sinks lower in his chair. Steve pinches Bucky’s arm sharply, but they stay quiet for the rest of the meeting.

The meeting ends and their colleagues are trickling out when Wade reaches out a hand and stops Bucky just before he leaves. 

“Sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Wade says and offers his hand.

Steve glances back, giving Bucky a wide-eyed look before leaving him in the clutches of this corporate monster.

“James,” Bucky says, taking Wade’s hand in his own. “James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky.”

Wade smiles. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

And that’s how Bucky gets a date with Corporate Hotshot Wade Wilson.

* * *

Bucky learns pretty quickly that Wade is unapologetically irreverent. It makes their relationship fun, but not very serious, which Bucky convinces himself is exactly what he needs right now. They’ve been together a couple months now, give or take, and Bucky can’t really remember if they’ve been on a date since their first, which was dinner at a fancy restaurant (Wade paid) and a movie at Bucky’s apartment. Bucky can’t even remember what the movie was because ten minutes in, they were already down to their skivvies. And that is, generally speaking, how most of their interactions go.

Bucky hesitates to call it a friends-with-benefits thing, but that may only be because he thought he was too much of a hopeless romantic for that. And while Bucky certainly isn’t seeing anyone else, he wouldn’t be surprised to find out Wade is. The fact that he doesn’t even feel a twinge of jealousy about that is probably telling, but Bucky doesn’t dwell on it.

Bucky is shaken out of his reverie by a familiar ping from his computer. He clicks to open the IM window.

STEVEN G. ROGERS (2:31 PM): did you get that email from thor?

Bucky glances at his inbox to find one unread message. He clicks it and his screen is filled with a garish Paint creation that informs him of an office happy hour today after work in neon colors and comic sans. He clicks out of the message and blinks a few times to allow his eyes to adjust to more sensible colors. He hears Steve snort a laugh to his right.

JAMES B. BARNES (2:32 PM): i see thor learned how to use paint.

STEVEN G. ROGERS (2:32 PM): i already saved it so we can make it sam’s desktop background

JAMES B. BARNES (2:32 PM): god bless you, steven rogers.

STEVEN G. ROGERS (2:32 PM): so, you going? i know at least one bet going around on whether tony’ll show up.

JAMES B. BARNES (2:32 PM): ooooo i want in! always good odds when there’s alcohol involved

STEVEN G. ROGERS (2:33 PM): yeah but rumor has it pepper’s back from her business trip, so it’s anyone’s guess

JAMES B. BARNES (2:33 PM): i’ll have to think on that one. but i’m totally in!! i’d never miss a chance to see my wonderful coworkers get absolutely trashed and embarrass themselves

Bucky leans back in his chair and clicks open the email again. He’s just about to delete it when he remembers Wade had said he was coming into town.

JAMES B. BARNES (2:35 PM): shit i forgot wade’s coming down. i think i’m gonna have to sit this one out :(

STEVEN G. ROGERS (2:35 PM): oh

There’s a remarkable pause then that Bucky’s not entirely sure what to do with. One glance over at Steve’s desk shows that he’s concentrating hard on something on his cell phone. Bucky bites the inside of his lip.

JAMES B. BARNES (2:37 PM): you’ll have to give me the play by play while you’re there

STEVEN G. ROGERS (2:37 PM): lol yeah sure thing

Bucky closes the window.

* * *

“I guess I just—kind of feel bad for—not going.” Bucky huffs out a breath and drops his head back onto the couch pillow. “Especially when I said I was gonna go.”

Wade pulls back with a huff. “Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“I hate to point this out, but I am working really hard on giving you the best hickey ever right now and all you can talk about is your office happy hour thing.”

“Shit.” Bucky throws an arm over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Sounds like this Steve guy really gets your goat.”

Bucky frowns and raises his arm to look at Wade. He is utterly, fantastically attractive—all toned muscle and soft skin. Bucky should be thinking about those pink lips on his throat. 

Instead, he’s thinking about that damn happy hour thing.

“It’s not that,” Bucky says and pulls himself into a sitting position. Wade, on the other hand, goes pliant and drops his head in Bucky’s lap. He pulls his phone out of—well, Bucky’s not really sure where the phone came from because they’re both mostly naked, save a pair of boxer briefs each—and is scrolling through his Twitter feed in record time. “I just think Steve was offended or…something. I don’t know. He was acting all weird at the end of the day.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, like, he usually asks if I’m ready to go because we leave at the same time, right? But today he just got up like he was leaving and I sorta had to scramble to meet him and then the conversation was weird.”

“Wow.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. “Can you at least pretend to care?”

Wade drops his phone face-down on his chest and tilts his head back to look at Bucky. “Why don’t you go to this happy hour thing and ask him why it’s weird?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Because we can’t all be flippant like you.”

Wade shrugs a shoulder. “Sure you can. Takes practice.” He grins wide, showing his clinically white teeth.

Bucky glances over at the clock. “It did just start. There’d be time to get there…”

“Great, it’s decided. You have fun. Go get your boy.”

“He’s not my— What are you gonna do?”

“Your Netflix password hasn’t changed, has it?”

* * *

The bar is crowded, even for a Friday night. Bucky immediately spots Natasha with her bright red hair leaning on the bar, presumably ordering drinks.

She happens to glance over at Bucky and raises a hand, so he walks over. She pushes four bottles of beer into his hands and grabs four of her own before wordlessly leading him to the back of the bar where Sam, Clint, Thor, Fury, Jane, Bruce, and Steve are sitting, scattered around a few tables. Steve is at a table by himself, staring intently at his phone.

“Drinks!” Natasha announces and hands out beer. Bucky follows suit and places the last bottle just in front of Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, eyes still glued to his phone.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replies.

Steve’s head shoots up. “Bucky!” he exclaims. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Yeah, well, I heard there was a bet going on and I’d hate to miss that,” Bucky says. He pulls out the seat across from Steve and sits.

“Here,” Steve says and pushes the unopened beer bottle toward Bucky. “Natasha is trying to get everyone drunk, but I’ve barely touched my first one.”

“How dastardly,” Bucky quips before popping the cap off the bottle and taking a swig. Bucky takes off his coat and pulls it around the back of his chair, trying to give himself time to think about what to say. Should he ask Steve if something is wrong or just let it blow over? 

His decision is made for him, however, when Steve says, “Sorry about today. I mean, when I was…acting weird.”

Bucky looks up to find Steve is clutching his beer bottle with both hands, eyes cast toward the table.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I mean, it’s fine. I just…thought I did something.”

Steve’s mouth pulls to the side in something like a smile. “No, it’s…Brock had texted me.” Steve taps a finger on the black screen of his phone.

“Oh. Is…everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says immediately. Then, a moment later, “Well, no.” He drops his head into his hands and rubs his eyes. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Hey,” Bucky says and extends a hand out toward Steve to grip his arm lightly. “You can tell me anything.”

Steve’s eyes travel to Bucky’s hand on his arm first, then trail up to Bucky’s face. He smiles again, this time for real. “Yeah, I know. It’s…remember that school in New York I was telling you about?”

Bucky takes his hand back to take another drink of beer. “Sure. The art school?”

“Yeah, well, I ended up applying. Had to submit a portfolio and then I did an interview on Skype. And I, uh, well, I got in.”

Bucky nearly chokes on his drink. “Holy shit!” he ends up coughing out. “Steve, that’s amazing! That’s—holy shit! I mean, of course you got in, you’re fuckin’ incredible but—holy shit!” Bucky lets out a laugh before he realizes what Steve’s really telling him. He swallows his own selfish feelings before asking, “So, when are you leaving?”

It’s November, Bucky thinks, so that must mean he’s been accepted for the spring semester, which means Steve could be gone as early as January. Just the thought of being alone in the office without Steve is anxiety-inducing.

“I’m not,” Steve says.

Bucky blinks a few times in confusion. “You…You’re not? I don’t understand. Are they…online classes?”

Steve huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “No, I mean...I’m not going. At all. To New York, to school, to—” Steve stops short and looks down at the table disdainfully. “Sorry. I shouldn’t complain. It was a dumb idea. I mean, Brock’s right. It’s not practical. I mean, what would I do in New York? We can’t afford for me to go to school and not work. I mean, I could get a job but that’s not… There are too many variables. So I get it. I’m just…”

“Disappointed,” Bucky says hollowly. 

Steve shrugs, then turns a sad smile up at Bucky. “Well, hey, you’re not saying goodbye to this ugly mug anytime soon, so that’s a plus!”

Bucky smiles back halfheartedly, thinking that if Brock were there right now, he’d have a few words to say to him. Steve had a chance to get out of the hellhole they’re living in and Brock fucking Rumlow squashes his dreams like it’s nothing. Sure, Bucky would’ve been devastated to see Steve go, but he can be supportive _and_ devastated at the same time. Like any fiancé should, Bucky thinks. He _doesn’t_ think about how he should be that fiancé, but it’s a close thing.

Very close.

Their conversation turns to more pleasant topics, like how far along each thinks the Sam/Natasha relationship is. Steve is still convinced it’s a burgeoning romance, but Bucky has it on good authority (his own) that Natasha and Sam were seen kissing in one of the supply closets at work months ago. Natasha had bribed Bucky pretty well with her prime parking spot at work to keep his mouth shut which, strictly speaking, he is. But Natasha didn’t say anything about placing bets on outcomes you already know.

Bucky glances at his watch what feels like minutes later and it ends up being hours. He rubs his eyes and says, “Shit. I should head home.”

“Plans this weekend?” Steve asks. They each stand and start pulling on coats, scarves, and gloves.

“Not exactly, but I did leave Wade unattended in my apartment. That’s never a good idea.”

Steve pauses in his scarf-tying. “Wade’s over? I thought that’s why you didn’t want to come.”

Bucky shrugs as he pulls on his gloves. “Wade said I should go, so I came. He doesn’t mind.”

Steve clears his throat and they awkwardly leave the bar. They make it to Steve’s car first, right near the entrance of the bar. “So,” Steve says. “You and him. You and Wade, I mean. You’re good? I mean…the…relationship?”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Rogers,” Bucky says with a grin.

Steve laughs and tucks his nose into his scarf. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re good. I mean, not introducing him to my mother anytime soon, that’s for sure. The first dick joke and she’d go into cardiac arrest.”

“So, it’s not serious, then…”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at Steve. This is the first time in the months he and Wade have been seeing each other that Steve has asked anything even remotely related to their relationship. “Not strictly speaking, no. But, he’s fun. And funny.” Bucky shrugs. “He’s good company.”

“That’s good. That’s really good. I’m glad you’re happy.”

Bucky shakes his head in wonder. “Yeah, all right, pal. I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you.”


	2. The Alliance

“Psst.”

Bucky glances up from his computer where he’s on an unprecedented streak in Minesweeper. Sam is slightly hunched over, eyes darting conspiratorially. 

“Hi Sam,” Bucky says lightly.

“Have you heard?”

Bucky chews on that for a moment. “Gonna have to be more specific.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “The downsizing.”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow. As a matter of fact, he has heard the rumor. But in his now eight years of working for Avengers Security (dear God, just kill him), he’s heard downsizing rumors just about every single year and nothing ever comes of it. Sam should know better, too, but let it never be said Sam isn’t constantly paranoid of losing his job.

“No way,” Bucky says in a mock-whisper.

Sam doesn’t catch the sarcasm, apparently. “Yeah, it’s scary stuff. Look…” Sam gets up from his chair and comes over to squat next to Bucky, which doesn’t look at all suspicious. “I know we don’t get along that well sometimes…”

“Whaaaaat?” Bucky replies, eyes wide.

Sam rolls his eyes again. Bucky should start keeping count; there’s potential there for another bingo card. “Shut up, Barnes, and listen. I think they’re gonna try and weed out the weaker links, you know?”

“Uh huh.”

Sam seems to brace himself, his jaw clenched, before he finally asks, “Do you want to form an alliance?”

“An alliance.”

“Yeah. You know—you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Watch out for each other. Make sure no one tries and throws us under the bus, if it comes down to it.”

Bucky barely hesitates before responding: “Yes. Yes, I want to form an alliance.”

“Perfect. All right. Just…make sure you keep this a secret.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Sam studies Bucky’s very innocent face before nodding and returning to his seat. Bucky waits the self-mandated thirty seconds before getting up from his seat and heading over to Steve.

“So Sam just asked me to join an alliance,” he says.

Steve looks up, blue eyes wide behind his glasses. “What does that even mean?”

“I think it’s from Survivor.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know.”

“Hey, Barnes, do you have a second?” Sam calls out.

Bucky makes a face at Steve who has to turn away and pretend to cough to hide his laughter. Bucky schools his face and returns to his desk. Sam leans forward and hisses, “Did you just tell Steve?”

“Tell him what?”

“About the alliance!”

“What? No! No, of course not! God, Sam. Just think for a second. Who knows the most about the goings-on of this place?”

“Tony.”

“Tony barely leaves his office, how does that makes sense? No! Steve. He’s the secretary, man. He talks to everyone, knows everyone’s business.”

“Shit,” Sam replies, sitting back a bit in wonder. “I never thought of that. So you’re using him?”

“Of course.”

“That’s cold, man. Real cold.”

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Do you think we need codenames?” Sam asks, seemingly an afterthought.

“Absolutely we do.”

“Because I was thinking for you—get this—the Winter Soldier.” Sam emphasizes it with his hands spread out before him. After a blank look from Bucky, he says, “Because you’re so ice cold, man!”

“Right, of course, no, yeah, it’s perfect. So you—”

“The Falcon.”

Bucky nods slowly. “Right. Because—”

“Coolest bird in the animal kingdom.”

“Right. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Anyway, Steve—”

“Captain America,” Sam cuts in.

“I’m…why?”

“Red, white, and blue,” Sam replies as if the answer was obvious.

“I don’t…”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “White skin, blue eyes, turns red all the time—it might be a condition.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Captain America.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, so if you see me talking to Captain America, just assume it’s me getting information.” Bucky leans forward conspiratorially. “And I plan to get that information any way I know how, okay? So it may get messy.”

“Shit, Barnes. All right.”

Bucky glances up toward the kitchenette where he just saw Bruce disappear. “Don’t look now, but I think Bruce and Clint are forming their own alliance.”

Sam’s head snaps back to look at the kitchen without an ounce of subtlety. “Holy shit.” He looks back at Bucky, eyes wide and panicked. “What do we do?”

“I got this.” Bucky pushes up from his desk and makes his way toward the kitchen. From behind him, he hears Sam whisper, “Goddamn Winter Soldier.”

“Morning,” Bucky greets Bruce and Clint once the door closes behind him. Clint is staring directly into the microwave as it reheats half a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee and Bruce is pulling some kind of protein shake out of the fridge.

“Hey,” Clint greets.

“Do anything fun this weekend?” Bruce asks. He’s looking at Bucky when he asks, but Clint replies: “Finally made it out to the archery range.” He feigns pulling back an arrow and letting it go, his eyes never leaving his rotating coffee cup.

Bucky nods. “That’s awesome, man.”

“Yeah, really cool,” Bruce agrees. 

“How about you, Bruce?” Bucky asks.

Bruce shrugs a shoulder as he stirs his shake with a straw. “Was on a yoga retreat, actually. You just have to find your center sometimes.”

“Oh yeah, totally. Hate it when you…lose that.”

“Mm,” Bruce replies and without another word, leaves. Bucky takes that as his cue to head back, too. Sam is practically vibrating with anticipation as Bucky sits back down at his desk.

“Well?”

“Tensions were really high, man.”

Sam leans back heavily. “Fuck. I mean, I could tell. With the…body language.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Did they say anything?”

“They’re gonna try and get Jane out.”

“Jane, huh? Well, that’s good news. At least it’s not us.”

“Yeah, but think about it. Bruce is HR. Clint is in accounting. Why would they be talking unless…”

“They’re forming an alliance.”

Bucky points at Sam and nods. 

“Fuck!” Sam says, a little too loudly.

“I know. But look, I think at this point we have to assume everyone in this office is forming alliances and they’re probably trying to get us kicked out.”

Sam rubs his forehead. “Why us?”

“Because we’re the strongest, Sam!”

“Falcon.”

“Falcon.”

“Fuck,” Sam says.

Bucky feels a light pressure on his shoulder and he turns to find Steve next to him with his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It stops his heart for a second, which he pointedly ignores. 

“Hey, Buck, do you have a second?” Steve asks. And if Bucky didn’t know Steve as well as he does, he’d think the guy was actually worried. 

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. It’s just…getting really weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” Steve drops his voice, pretending he doesn’t know Sam is boring a hole through him with the intensity of how hard he’s staring. “But I’ve been fielding calls for Tony all morning from corporate and they keep bringing up staff issues.”

“Oh shit,” Bucky replies, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and I was in a meeting earlier and Tony’s having me take notes and I’m like, I can’t do this! These are my friends! But he was like, this is all confidential and you can’t tell anyone, but…you’re my best friend, so just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Yeah, Steve, of course.” Bucky places a hand over Steve’s where it hasn’t moved from his shoulder and also definitely has not been burning a hole through his shirt, making Bucky feeling slightly sweaty with the contact.

Steve nods and returns to his desk.

“Jackpot,” Sam says with a grin.

* * *

Bucky takes a seat at his desk and leans toward Sam. “Falcon,” he says and darts his eyes to the side, looking for eavesdroppers.

Sam sits up straight. “Winter Soldier,” he replies.

It takes everything in Bucky not to burst into laughter at how serious Sam is. Instead, he says, “Steve just told me there’s going to be an alliance meeting in the warehouse.”

“Holy shit,” Sam says. “We have to be there.”

“I know. But they’re doing it during the staff meeting. We can’t both be gone—everyone will know _we’re_ part of an alliance.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Sam sits back in his chair and looks at the ceiling. “I can do it.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Sam gives Bucky a withering look. “Hide, obviously. Listen in. Get the info, get out.”

“Right, but there’s nowhere to hide in the warehouse.”

“God, Barnes, don’t be an idiot. Of course there is. But…”

“What?”

“I’ll need your help.”

“Anything.”

* * *

“You sure you’re good in there?” Bucky asks and he thanks God Sam can’t see his face right now, because he’s beaming with glee. 

“All good,” comes Sam’s muffled reply. 

Bucky pats the top of the refrigerator-sized packing box that Sam is currently squatting in. “Should I wait here?”

“What? No! Jesus, you’re so stupid. Go to the staff meeting and I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“Right, of course,” Bucky says and heads back upstairs, practically skipping to Steve’s desk.

“Steve,” Bucky says. Steve looks up. The rest of the office is empty, having piled into the meeting room for the weekly staff meeting. Bucky just hopes Tony is oblivious enough to not realize two of his employees are not in attendance. “Sam is in a box downstairs,” Bucky says.

“Pardon?”

“He’s sitting in a box. In the warehouse. Downstairs. Please work your magic.”

Steve picks up his cell phone with a devilish grin (that definitely does not make Bucky’s stomach do somersaults) and says, “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

“I thought I blew my cover, but I don’t think she noticed,” Sam says, rubbing his arm and wincing.

Bucky, who has it on good authority (Steve) that Sam had, indeed, blown his cover by tipping over in the box a mere four feet from where Steve was pretending to be on a covert phone call, nods solemnly. 

“And it’s accounting,” Sam continues. “We’re in the clear. It _is_ Jane.”

Bucky sighs. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but I think you’re wrong. I heard Bruce saying he was filling out unemployment paperwork for Fury.”

“What the fuck!” 

“I know, I know. You know, if only we had a contact at the Stamford branch. We’d be closer to knowing what corporate was up to…”

Sam’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Winter Soldier, you are a genius.”

* * *

“So, I think I convinced Sam to go undercover as a new employee at the Stamford branch.”

Steve bursts into laughter that touches his eyes and wrinkles his nose. To Bucky’s delight, Steve reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand. “Oh my God, you’re a genius.”

Bucky grins wide. “All your doing, Steve, I swear! I don’t know what you said downstairs, but Sam is _convinced_ corporate is after him.”

Steve laughs again and Bucky wishes he’d never stop. “I can’t believe it, it’s—”

“Hey, what the fuck!”

Bucky physically recoils, wrenching his hand out of Steve’s grasp as Brock Rumlow storms into the office. 

“Hey, Brock,” Steve says quietly, his face drawn and anxious.

But Brock doesn’t even glance at Steve; his eyes are boring into Bucky. “You tryin’ something with my guy?”

Bucky laughs nervously. “What? No. Look, we were just—it was a prank and we were just talking—”

“Last time I checked, talking didn’t involve handholding,” Brock bites back.

“No, I was just—”

“Brock, really,” Steve says. “We were just joking around—”

Brock takes a few steps in Bucky’s direction and Bucky tries not to back down, but Brock has at least 30 pounds of pure muscle on him. Brock jabs a finger at Bucky’s chest. “Stay away from Steve.”

Bucky is left open-mouthed and wide-eyed as Brock grabs Steve’s hand, leads him around his desk, and out of the office. Steve doesn’t even manage to look at Bucky, although judging by the color of the tips of his ears, he’s burning with embarrassment. 

Bucky clenches his fists and wishes, not for the first time, that he would just get up the courage to punch Brock right in the face like he deserves. But he doesn’t. Because Steve loves him. Inexplicably.


	3. The Starkies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check the end of the chapter for Natasha's Instagram posts from this night, by @knowledgeiscake on AO3 / @hrunting on Tumblr

Bucky taps lightly on Tony’s closed office door and enters when he hears Tony’s annoyed, “What is it?”

“Hey, Tony. Have a minute?”

Tony seems confused to see Bucky, which isn’t surprising since their interactions are limited; Tony rarely leaves his office. Bucky’s not entirely sure what his job is, exactly. The title “manager” doesn’t actually fit since he doesn’t, well, _manage_ anyone. It’s a credit to the self-sufficiency of the branch that corporate hasn’t figured that out yet.

“Barnes! Bucky! Buck! Buck-o!” Tony says, to Bucky’s dismay. “Come on in! Have a seat!”

Bucky does so and clears his throat. “I don’t wanna take up too much of your time.” Bucky takes in the mess on Tony’s desk that looks like a microwave possibly exploded into its disparate parts there.

“What? No, of course not!” Tony says and haphazardly pushes the machinery to the side with his arm. “What’s up?”

Bucky’s never really been able to get a read on Tony. He thinks the guy is sincere sometimes, but then other times Bucky’s close to punching him in the face for being so… _Tony_. Steve, who has the most interaction with Tony than anyone else in the office, has told Bucky more than once that a good smack is exactly what Tony needs to get his head on straight. Tony likes to push people’s buttons. Much like the machinery he’s tinkering with, it’s like he won’t stop until it explodes or at least does something interesting. 

“Uh, it’s about the…thing tonight.”

“The Starkies!”

“Yeah…”

“You’re going, right?” Tony looks uncharacteristically sincere when he asks.

“Oh. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And Bucky is being sincere. There’s nothing he loves more than watching the people he has to see every day for eight hours make absolute idiots of themselves. Plus, Tony has told them in no uncertain terms that the bonuses that go along with the awards will be delayed if they don’t show up to accept. The awards themselves are the brainchild of Tony Stark (hence the name), and Bucky seriously doubts if corporate even knows that Tony blackmails his employees with their bonuses to make them go…

Tony sits back in his chair. “So, what’s up? Oh, I know. You wanna know what trophy you’re gonna get, huh? Well, too bad. This is literally my favorite part of the year. I get to hang out with everyone in the office!” Tony throws his hands wide and grins.

Bucky knows better. Steve told him that this is the only time Tony’s wife, Pepper, lets him drink. Tony just has to keep up the _work engagement_ thing as a pretense. “Yeah, look. It’s not about my trophy. It’s about Steve’s…”

Tony bursts into laughter, slapping his desk. “Gets me every time,” Tony says, wiping away an imaginary tear.

“Yeah, well, I was thinking maybe this year you could do something…else.”

Tony looks taken aback. “Something else?” Tony digs something out from a drawer in his desk and places it on top. It’s a trophy and engraved on the front is WORLD’S LONGEST ENGAGEMENT – STEVE ROGERS.

“Yeah,” says Bucky, staring at the trophy. “It’s just…mean-spirited, don’t you think?”

Tony rolls his eyes as he puts the trophy back in his desk. “Mean-spirited my ass. Steve has thick skin. Plus, he loves it! He laughs every time he wins it!”

That’s categorically untrue. Last year, Steve turned beet red and had to excuse himself from the crowded restaurant while Brock guffawed and accepted the award on his fiancé’s behalf. The only good thing was that Steve wasn’t there to hear Brock’s acceptance speech, which was a rousing, “See you next year!” 

But Bucky knows the truth won’t win Tony over.

“Well, I’m just thinking—it’s a little unoriginal, don’t you think?”

That gives Tony pause. “Unoriginal?”

Bucky waves his hand in the air. “Yeah, you know. Same trophy every year? Everyone’s expecting it. I guess if you’re going for cheap laughs—”

“Don’t insult me, Barnes. I would _never_.”

“Well, think about it. I know you can come up with some really funny shit if you really try.” Bucky stands and leaves, praying he’s done at least some damage control for tonight and not made things worse.

* * *

Bucky invites Wade and although he knows Wade’s going to say no, it still kind of hurts when he actually laughs at him over the phone. But Bucky puts it behind him and heads to the Chili’s where the annual awards show has taken place for eight years.

Bucky immediately spots Steve at a table, but then he sees Brock with an arm around the back of Steve’s chair. Brock is talking animatedly with another warehouse worker Bucky thinks is named Jasper while Steve stares morosely into his drink. Bucky makes a beeline for Natasha instead who smiles at him as he takes a seat at the her table. “Ready for another night of revelry?” Natasha asks.

“Can’t wait. Any betting pools I should know about?”

Natasha shrugs a shoulder. “No good odds. One about how drunk Tony gets, but we all know he’s going to be smashed by the end.”

Bucky orders a beer from the waiter when he comes around. The restaurant is crowded and as Tony makes his way to the small area that’s been cleared of tables, the noise hardly dies down. 

“Thank you all for coming to this year’s Starkies,” Tony announces. There’s a smattering of applause that’s polite at best, but Tony doesn’t seem put off. “Let’s get this party started; drinks are on me!” He raises a glass of something dark and with undoubtedly high alcohol content to the resounding cheer from the audience.

Stark disappears into the crowd somewhere and Bucky gets comfortable, settling in for a long night. Sam finds his way over soon after and, after leveling Bucky with a glare, takes a seat next to Natasha. Bucky thinks he can ignore him, but after five straight minutes of Sam glaring at him—seemingly without blinking—and Natasha on her phone not noticing or not caring enough to notice, Bucky announces, “I’m gonna go walk around,” and gets up to scout out a table that’s a little less hostile. 

He finds an empty chair at a table with Thor and Jane. Neither of them acknowledge Bucky, but that’s all right by him, so long as he’s not being stared at menacingly. Jane seems to be telling Thor about something related to space that’s far too complicated for Bucky to follow. Thor, for his part, seems enraptured, chin in hand and doll-eyed. Bucky thinks if Thor weren’t so wildly straight, he might have gone for him; he has an amazing body, bright blue eyes, and perfectly blond hair (Bucky may have a type). 

Bucky can’t help but let his attention drift back to Steve’s table, which is just behind him now, although Steve’s back is to him. Bucky can hear Brock and Jasper’s conversation.

“Wanna go to Poor Richard’s?” Brock asks.

“Thank God. This place is a nightmare,” Jasper replies.

They both stand and when Bucky turns to look, Steve is also getting up, pulling on his jacket. Bucky’s heart sinks in his chest, although he doubts he would’ve had time to speak with Steve anyway with Brock around. Still, things feel a bit better with Steve in the room.

Tony tries to stop them at the door and although he can’t hear them over the hum of the crowd, it’s clear Brock wins and they head out.

Jane excuses herself from the table and without waiting even ten seconds, Thor is following after her toward the bar. Bucky leans back and crosses his arms, trying to decide if it’s worth getting drunk by himself with no friends when Steve pulls Thor’s empty chair out and takes a seat.

“Steve!” Bucky says.

“Hey, Buck.”

“I thought you were leaving.” Bucky motions toward the door where, thankfully, he does not see Brock or Jasper.

Steve shrugs his shoulders and does not look at Bucky when he says, “I wanted to stay. I’ll get a ride home from Natasha. Hey, are you gonna finish that?” 

Bucky opens his mouth to reply, but Steve has already dragged Bucky’s stein over and lifted it to his lips. Bucky watches in half-horror and half-awe as Steve downs the thing in an astonishing short amount of time. 

“Uh, you wanna pace yourself there, Rogers?”

Steve takes a deep breath and gives Bucky an annoyed look. “We’re _celebrating_ , Buck. Come on!” Steve raises his hand and catches the attention of a waiter who hurries over. Steve orders another drink—a stronger drink—and Bucky orders another beer.

The night continues and Bucky and Steve spend it joking and laughing. This is the happiest Bucky has seen Steve in a long time, and he’s chalking most of that up to Steve’s state of inebriation, which is burgeoning on _wasted_ very quickly. Bucky thinks the wait staff would have cut Steve off, except apparently drunk-Steve has no qualms accepting half-full drinks from strangers’ tables before the busboys get there. Bucky knows he should intervene, but Steve seems so relaxed and carefree, so he lets it go.

Finally, Tony takes the floor again, this time holding a mic that must be connected to the speakers as the music dies down. Most of the crowd has left, leaving just the Avengers Security folks who are in various states of drunkenness at this point.

Tony doesn’t seem drunk at all, but as a functioning alcoholic, Bucky supposes it’s hard to tell. 

“Let’s get these awards goin’, huh, folks!” Tony announces and everyone claps. Steve actually wolf-whistles, which makes Bucky snort with laughter.

“First and foremost,” Tony grabs a trophy and reads the front. He has to pull the trophy back and forth in an effort to focus his vision, “this award goes to Clint! For the employee most likely to be high at work!”

There’s more applause and cheering and Bucky turns to see Clint with his arms raised in triumph as he goes to collect his trophy. He leans over the mic in Tony’s hand and says, “Nice,” before taking his seat again.

“For Loki—most likely to be hatching an evil plot to kill everyone!”

The temp, Loki, is sitting in a corner booth, arms crossed and looking sullen. He doesn’t move from his spot, so Tony instead decides to chuck the trophy at him. Bucky’s a little disturbed at how nimbly Loki catches it in the air.

“Jaaaaaane Foster! Where is she? Oh, there she is!” Tony points at her where she’s still sitting at the bar with Thor. “For our Jane—most likely to bore the shit out of everyone talking about space and shit!”

Possibly thanks to how much she’s been drinking, Jane takes the insult in stride, laughing into Thor’s shoulder before getting up and accepting the award with a smile. 

“This is the most important award, in my opinion. Hottest in the office! Bruce! Get up here!”

Steve is practically sobbing with laughter, clutching Bucky’s arm for support. He wipes away actual tears from his face, stares up at Bucky, and then dissolves into laughter again. Bucky stares at him, at a total loss but enjoying himself nonetheless.

Sam receives the Most Paranoid award, not for the first time. Natasha gets Prettiest Smile. (There was a rumor Tony was planning a red hair carpet-and-drapes joke one year, but then Natasha threatened to murder everyone he loved, so he changed it.) Fury gets Good Work. (Another employee Tony steers well away from mocking, for good reason, if rumors are anything to go by.) Thor gets Most Likely To Be In The Baywatch Remake. 

Bucky gets Most Likely To Be In a Rock Band, which is unoriginal, but not as bad as it could be. He supposes the long hair and leather jacket are easy fodder for Stark when he hardly knows Bucky.

Finally, only Steve is left and Bucky braces for it. Even Steve, though he’s so far past drunk he’s down the street and around the corner, sobers a bit in preparation for the pain of being reminded that he’s been engaged now for _four years_ with no end in sight. 

“Finally. Steve Rogers. For Most Hipster Glasses!” 

Steve lights up and stumbles his way over to Tony while his audience claps and cheers. Bucky can hear Steve saying, “Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” as he clutches the trophy. Inexplicably, he looks like he’s going to cry. Instead, Steve takes the mic from Tony who looks surprised, but he takes a step back.

“Um,” Steve says into the mic, “I just want to thank everyone who helped me get to this point. I want to thank Tony for a great awards show!” Everyone claps and Bucky wishes he had the forethought to charge his phone because he really doesn’t think Steve is going to remember this and he really really wants to record this for posterity.

“I want to thank my glasses, who without them, I wouldn’t have gotten this amazing award.” Steve touches his glasses and sways a little. He giggles—actually giggles—and then seems to immediately sober up. “I want to thank God. Because God gave me this Starkie. And I feel God in this Chili’s tonight.” There’s a pause where no one knows what to do, and then Steve whoops loudly and hops off the stage, tossing the mic to Tony.

Bucky is laughing so hard. He stands as Steve makes his way over, looking ecstatic. “Bucky!” he exclaims. “Bucky, look!” He waves the trophy at him.

“Yeah, pal, I saw!”

Steve throws his arms around Bucky’s neck and then, before Bucky has a chance to do anything, Steve kisses him. It doesn’t last long; it’s hardly a peck on the lips, but Bucky can feel his face burning when Steve pulls away. Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he’s done and wobbles his way back to his own seat. Bucky sits down and clears his throat. There’s a hard kick to the back of Bucky’s seat and when he turns to look, Natasha is at the table behind him giving him a wide-eyed look.

Bucky pointedly ignores her.

Soon, the Avengers crew start making their way home, the restaurant emptying. Steve pulls on Bucky’s arm until he agrees to go to the bar where Bucky forces Steve to drink a glass of water.

Steve leans heavily on Bucky’s arm and laughs at nothing. Then, he sighs. “Bucky, you’re the best, did you know that?”

“Yeah, of course I know that.”

Steve laughs much louder than Bucky’s non-joke deserves. He leans back to look up at Bucky, his eyes unfocused and exceptionally blue. “Yeah, but I’m serious, Bucky. I mean it.”

Bucky tries to focus on something other than how close Steve is and how, apparently, when Steve is drunk, the use of his name increases and that doesn’t do _anything_ to Bucky’s heartrate, thank you very much.

“Sure, pal. I’m the best. I get it,” Bucky says.

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together and he grips Bucky’s arm tightly. “Bucky, no. Bucky, listen. Bucky…”

Bucky tries to make himself match Steve’s serious expression.

“Bucky, can I…” Steve is staring into Bucky’s eyes and he’s so close, Bucky can smell the liquor on his breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course. You can ask me anything, Steve.”

Steve swallows and for a second Bucky thinks Steve might actually have something genuinely serious to say. But then Natasha appears over Steve’s shoulder and announces, “Time to go, Rogers. And I hope you drank enough water, because if you vomit in my car, you’re paying it off and selling it for me.”

Steve deflates a little, turning his attention away from Bucky. As soon as he does so, Bucky releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“I’ll see ya later, Steve.”

Steve smiles at him, waving his hand slightly as Natasha leads the way outside.

* * *

Barring some sideways glances from Natasha, no one else seems to remember or care about the fact that Steve kissed Bucky when they return to work on Monday. And Steve, for his part, is somehow still nursing a residual hangover headache two days after the fact and tells Bucky in no uncertain terms that he remembers absolutely nothing starting about 15 minutes after saying goodbye to Brock and sitting next to Bucky.

Bucky really won’t be blamed for leaving out some details as he retells the night’s events to Steve. Bucky delights in reminding Steve of his Starkie, however, which he apparently completely forgot about and also has no idea where the trophy is.

“Most Hipster Glasses?” Steve repeats, slightly in awe, his wide, blue eyes staring at Bucky in amazement. “That’s incredible. Oh my God, where is that trophy? Did I leave with it?”

Bucky shrugs and leans his arms on the counter in front of Steve’s desk. “As far as I know.”

On cue, Natasha appears, proffering the trophy to Steve who takes it with a grin, eyes taking in the title etched in metal.

“Left it in my car,” Natasha says. She turns on her heel and disappears back to her desk.

Steve sighs wistfully at the trophy. “I love it,” he says simply. 

Bucky grins. “Yeah, you were real excited about it on Friday night, too.”

Steve’s cheeks color a delightful pink and Bucky half-wonders if Steve might actually remember a little bit about that night, after all. But then he clears his throat and the phone rings and Bucky waves his hand before heading back to his own desk.

* * *

To say Bucky is unhappy with his life is an understatement. Everything in it seems to be a half-hearted attempt at happiness—his job, his relationship, his car, his clothes. 

It hits him one day as he stares at Steve who is patiently listening to a client badger on about something on the phone that Bucky is only in this dead-end job because of Steve. Honest to God, if Steve left, Bucky would have no other reason to be there. And that realization is…

Depressing, mostly. Depressing because Steve is engaged to Brock, Steve doesn’t like Bucky as more than a friend, and none of that looks likely to change.

And yet.

 _And yet_ that stupid, naïve, ignorant, innocent part of Bucky thinks—what if? What if something changes? What if Brock dies in a fiery car crash and Bucky is the only one left to comfort Steve and then Steve realizes what he should have known all along, that Bucky is the only one for him and they get married and adopt a billion dogs together? 

Bucky runs a hand down his face when he notices he’s been staring at Steve for too long and instead glances at Sam. Perhaps Sam notices the attention or perhaps it’s coincidental timing, but Sam picks up a ruler and, without even looking, pushes a large pile of files on Bucky’s desk that were spilling onto Sam’s back onto Bucky’s desk.

Bucky sighs. The kiss at the Starkies has clearly gone to his head. Steve was happy and he was drunk and happy-drunk-Steve wanted to express himself and so he happily, drunkenly kissed the closest person to him, which happened to be Bucky. He’s sure Steve would’ve kissed Fury had he been closest! Right?

So here’s where Bucky stands: he hates his job and his relationship with Wade is barely functional and he quite literally has no reason to stick around, but he is desperately delusional that he will continue to put off making any serious changes until…

Until what? Bucky’s immediate thought is _until Steve and Brock actually get married_ , but they’ve been engaged for so long, it’s quickly becoming the most torturous game of chicken ever. And putting all of Bucky’s inappropriate feelings aside, Steve really is his best friend. His _only_ friend, actually. Which—again—depressing. But he cherishes Steve in his life for reasons that go beyond his interest in the guy romantically. Steve is his favorite person and Bucky would be hard-pressed to find a new job or a new relationship when everything will be subconsciously compared to this job _with Steve_ or a relationship _with Steve_.

* * *

[graphics by @knowledgeiscake on AO3 / @hrunting on tumblr]


	4. Booze Cruise

It’s lunch and Bucky and Steve are seated in their usual spot in the corner of the break room. They’re quiet, listening with halfhearted interest to Natasha and Jane as they recount some of the worst dates they’ve ever been on.

“And so I get there and there’s this really beautiful, like, Pinterest-level picnic spread with the woven basket and red plaid blanket and wine glasses,” Jane says. “And so I sit down and I’m like ‘wow, this is amazing!’ and then he proceeds to break up with me and tell me I should really get going because his date is coming and it’d be awkward if I were there.”

“Holy shit, Jane,” Natasha says, eyes wide.

To Bucky’s surprise, Steve chimes in: “Well, back in high school, I was dating this guy on the football team…”

“Oh my God, was he the quarterback?” Natasha asks, turning to Steve.

Steve rolls his eyes. “No, no. But he was pretty good. Anyway, I drove there with him and they ended up winning, which was great! But he actually forgot I was there and ended up leaving me behind. That was pretty miserable. And cold. And I had to walk home because when I finally got a hold of him, he was already too drunk to drive.”

Jane has one delicate hand covering her mouth in horror. Then, she sighs and raises her can of Diet Coke. “To dumb, shitty past boyfriends.”

“Here, here!” Natasha chimes in, and because Bucky doesn’t want to feel left out, he raises his own bottle of water.

Steve, however, stays reticent, and is suddenly super interested in the remnants of his sandwich.

“Oh my God,” Natasha says, eyes wide and staring at Steve.

Bucky is thoroughly confused. “What?”

Natasha holds her hand out to Steve. “Oh my _God_ , that wasn’t a past boyfriend, was it, Steve?”

Steve gives a chuckle that actually sounds a little bit like a wheeze. “Uh, no. I mean, Brock totally apologized afterwards—”

“Oh my God, it was _Brock_?” Jane asks incredulously.

Steve starts to turn red and Bucky can practically see his hackles go up, ready to defend his fiancé. “We were kids, and he was so excited about winning that he just forgot, I guess.”

The room falls silent, no one knowing quite what to say. Bucky finds his sandwich exceedingly interesting, half of him feeling sorry for Steve and the other half of him wanting to throw just one solid punch in Brock’s direction. 

“Well,” Bucky says, determined to cut the tension in the room, “none of that compares to the time I got broken up with when we were both in the shower.”

Natasha snorts into her coffee cup and Steve rolls his eyes, but he gives a little laugh too and sends a grateful look toward Bucky.

* * *

Bucky isn’t entirely clear on why there are fireworks. He’s heard it’s Fury’s birthday, that Natasha is leaving (confirmed untrue), and that Bucky himself ordered them as prank on Sam (not true, although hilarious). Regardless, there are fireworks and while most Avengers employees head down to the parking lot to grab a lawn chair and post up, Bucky sends a look Steve’s way who nods in understanding. They take their time, tapping papers together and plugging random keys on their keyboard to make it look like they’re heading out with the rest of the group until they’re the last people left. Then, they beeline toward the back of the office where the door to the roof is. 

Steve discovered the door to the roof was left unlocked a couple years ago and since then, it’s been a closely guarded secret between him and Bucky. It’s quite possibly the last location in the building where they can find solace when shit hits the fan—which it often does. 

Bucky collapses happily in what he considers to be his lawn chair on the roof and Steve takes his seat next to Bucky. It’s a cool autumn evening—not exactly the weather for fireworks—and Bucky buries his nose a little deeper in his scarf.

“I heard Tony just had leftover fireworks from his fourth of July party he forgot about,” Steve comments. He uses the back of one gloved hand to push his glasses back up his nose. They’re slightly fogged from the temperature change.

Bucky hums. “That’s the most logical reason I’ve heard so far.”

A silence falls between them and Bucky struggles to come up with something to say, but ever since lunch he’s had a hard time thinking about anything except what an asshole Brock is. And he’s been sucked into a vicious thought cycle, trying to figure out why on earth Steve is still with him. Bucky understands the complexities of a relationship, especially one that is years long and started, apparently, in high school when they were both so young. He understands that leaving a relationship is far more complicated and painful than it might appear from the outside. He understands that Steve doesn’t have the highest self-esteem and maybe that’s what kept him from breaking up with Brock when they were teenagers. Bucky understands. But just because he understands, doesn’t mean he’s any closer to forgiving Brock or not wanting to shake Steve until he _realizes_.

The first firework whistles high into the air over the parking lot and explodes in a flash of green. The burst of sound comes a second later, making Steve jump. 

Bucky chuckles and Steve must see because Bucky feels the soft _thump_ of Steve’s hand hitting Bucky’s arm. 

The light show continues for ten minutes until finally it seems the last of the sparks has died and, miraculously, no one’s car was caught on fire. The group down below, oblivious to Steve and Bucky’s bird’s-eye view, cheer and clap their approval before starting to shuffle away toward their cars.

Bucky feels quite content where he is, thinking he’d spend all night up on the roof if Steve would, too.

“That was nice,” Steve says, his voice muffled by his own scarf. 

Bucky glances over and laughs lightly. “A good date to counteract all the bad ones. I definitely won’t forget to drive you home after this.”

Bucky knows it’s a mistake as soon as the words come out of his mouth, but it’s quickly confirmed by Steve’s tightened jaw and furrowed brow.

“Steve, I—”

“I gotta get home,” Steve says and abruptly stands and starts heading toward the door.

“Steve, wait,” Bucky calls out and chases after him.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Steve replies without a backward glance. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bucky slows his walk and lets the door close behind Steve without following him into the building.

* * *

Bucky replays the night of the fireworks display in his head dozens of times. Hundreds, possibly. He knows he fucked up. He knows how Steve gets upset when people point out how shitty Brock is (even though he _is_ shitty). But, all things considered, it wasn’t even the worst thing Bucky’s ever said about the guy. So when weeks go by with only stilted, polite conversation between himself and Steve, Bucky thinks he may be going crazy. He wants to outright ask Steve what he can do to make it up to him, and he’s _tried_ , but every attempt to address the issue is thwarted by Steve waving his hand in the air, smiling politely, and assuring Bucky that everything’s okay and he’s just tired or sick or busy or whatever other excuse he can come up with. It’s _exhausting_.

Which is why Bucky is thrilled when Tony emerges from his office, claps his hands, and announces that the whole office is going on an unspecified mini-vacation to an undisclosed location. Tony looks abnormally excited and no matter how many questions are lobbed at him from his employees, he refuses to reveal what the trip entails. He, confusingly enough, tells everyone to bring snow pants _and_ a bathing suit.

Regardless, some time away from the office sounds like the just the thing Bucky needs to either pry what’s wrong with Steve out of him, or at least get things back on track in their friendship. Plus, knowing Tony, there’s bound to be alcohol wherever they’re going and that’s always a surefire way to get Steve loose and talking.

* * *

Just call Bucky clairvoyant; it’s a booze cruise. Somehow, Tony didn’t consider the implications of a booze cruise in December. Or maybe he did and didn’t care, so long as he has an official excuse to drink. It must be the latter, Bucky realizes, when he learns that Wade has been invited—and not by Bucky. Their relationship, if it can even be called that, has only stagnated into the occasional booty call. And even those are becoming less and less frequent. Given the current predicament with steely-hearted Steve, Bucky has had his mind elsewhere.

Heading to the lake, bundled up in winter coats with the wind off the water whipping their hair in a frenzy, Bucky wonders if this will even be worth it. Steve’s still not being overly friendly. When they’d run into each other in the parking lot, Steve had said his cursory hello before being shuttled away by an overbearing Brock. Bucky didn’t have time to feel too sour about it, because Wade found him in no time and was tucked into Bucky’s side, shivering.

“You probably should’ve worn something other than that peacoat, Wade,” Bucky points out as they join the line onto the small ship.

“And damage my image as the most fashionable guy at Avengers Security? God, no.”

* * *

Fortunately, the interior of the cabin of the ship is heated and has cushy leather seats and, as promised, an open bar. Wade quickly snags a booth while Bucky fetches them a couple whiskeys to warm them up. Bucky’s surprised to see Brock and Steve sitting across from Wade when he returns.

Wade is leaning forward, listening to a story Brock is telling with rapt attention—attention, Bucky is annoyed to note, that Wade hardly ever showed Bucky in their months of knowing one another.

“So this guy comes running at me and I got my hands out like this,” Brock puts his big, meaty hands out, “and I swear this guy is so much smaller than me and surely he knows I’m gonna pummel him as soon as he gets in range, you know? But then this little shit does this fancy footwork and ducks _under my arm_. Swear to God it was like magic or something!”

Wade actually guffaws, an open-mouthed laugh that catches Bucky by surprise, both because he’s never heard it and it’s completely out of character. “Dude!” Wade exclaims, slapping his hand on the table and causing the ice in their glasses to clang and Steve to jump a little in his seat. “That was me!”

Brock reaches out a hand and grips Wade’s forearm. “You’re shitting me! You played for the fuckin’ Eagles?”

“Yes! Holy shit, you’re Brock fuckin’ Rumlow, aren’t you?!”

“Yeah, dude!”

The men break into raucous laughter and both Steve and Bucky take a sip of their respective drinks (Steve is nursing a beer). Bucky catches Steve’s eye over his glass and his heart skips a beat when Steve gives Bucky a little grin and rolls his eyes.

“Jocks,” Steve intones, just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

Wade laughs again, this time more politely, and says, “What, not much a football fan? You guys are engaged, right?” Wade gestures between Steve and Brock. “I’m guessing you’ll be a fan if Brock has anything to say about it, huh?”

Brock gives Steve an unreadable look out of the corner of his eye before giving a half-hearted smile and replying, “Ah, Steve was always more of the nerdy type, you know? Likes watching those HGTV shows and shit more than football.”

“My mom always says I’m gay enough for the both of us,” Steve says.

Wade laughs again. Bucky glances up and sees just a slight flinch around Brock’s eyes that’s not altogether happy. It makes the hair stand up on Bucky’s arms. But then it’s gone and Brock laughs, too. He slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders and jostles him. Steve’s nose wrinkles and he smiles down at his lap at the unexpected physical contact. Bucky finishes his off his whiskey and excuses himself to get another.

* * *

Apparently cheese and crackers aren’t enough to soak up the alcohol, because it’s gone straight to Bucky’s head within the hour. At least he’s not alone. The generic, wordless dance music pounding over the speakers has enticed Natasha and Sam onto the dance floor and they’re not being coy about their (possible) relationship anymore. Natasha’s lithe form moves effortlessly around Sam who probably isn’t a terrible dancer when he’s not completely wasted. Thor and Jane are dancing, too, although much slower and not at all to the tempo, reminiscent of a high school slow dance instead. Clint and Bruce are showing off outdated moves from the 80s in an attempt to make the other laugh harder. Tony is nowhere to be seen and Bucky hopes he’s not plastered somewhere alone; he figures someone would’ve noticed him go overboard. Strangely enough, Fury and Loki are sitting at a booth together, although neither is speaking to the other and they’re raptly staring at their respective phones.

Bucky loses track of the conversation at his own table. At some point it switches from sports to some zombie show on TV to car talk and on and on. Steve is doing a good job of pretending to listen, laughing at the right times and humming in interest when needed, but Bucky knows the tell-tale sign of daydreaming when he sees it—the glossed-over eyes, the way his slim fingers trace mindless circles on the table.

“What about you, Buck?”

Bucky starts and realizes he’s lost the train of conversation again. “What?”

Wade grins at him and asks, “Had to save one thing off this sinking ship, what would it be?”

It takes everything in him not to immediately glance at Steve. Instead he shrugs a shoulder and says, “My phone? Call the Coast Guard or…whatever.”

Wade groans loudly. “Borrrrring! All right, Steve, what about you?”

Steve shakes his head slightly, then smiles at Brock. “You, of course.”

Brock grins widely and goes in for a kiss. Bucky suddenly finds the grain of the table incredibly interesting as Wade lets out an obnoxious, “Awwww,” and puts his hand to his heart. “Seriously, you guys are the cutest. I just don’t have that settling down gene in me, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Brock says and Bucky looks back up to see that Brock and Steve are looking each other in the eyes for…a long time.

“What is it?” Steve asks quietly.

“I’m having a thought,” Brock replies, eyebrows arching.

“Uh-oh.”

Brock smiles. “Babe…”

“Yeah…?”

Brock stands and makes his way out of the booth and onto the dance floor. Steve puts one hand over his mouth as he watches in confusion and disbelief. “Oh God,” he says, “what is he about to do?”

Brock reaches the microphone and taps it to ensure it’s on. “Guys? Everyone? Can I have your attention?” The music dims and the folks on the dance floor stop and clear the area. “Um, we were just having a conversation,” Brock continues and he motions over at the booth. Steve’s face grows red at the attention.

“And, um, we were, um, talking about, um, asking, like, what we would do or…save or whatever off the ship if it were sinking.”

 _Eloquent_ , Bucky thinks to himself. 

“And it just got me thinking, I guess. Steve? Let’s do it. Let’s set a date for our wedding. What do you say?”

There’s a few cheers and whoops from the audience and Bucky feels like maybe he’s in a bad dream because he looks over at Steve and he’s beaming and nodding his head. 

“How’s June 10th?” Brock asks.

“Great!” Steve cries out.

Brock lifts his arms in the air and shouts, “I’m gettin’ married!” into the microphone. The crowd cheers loudly this time, clapping and then quickly clambering back onto the dance floor as the music starts back up.

Bucky clears his throat and says, “I, uh, gotta get some air.”

Steve turns back around, still smiling, although it flags a little when he looks at Bucky. “You okay?”

Bucky waves his hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, just drank too much.” He laughs a little and says, “Congrats, Stevie.”

Steve gives him a soft smile and Bucky quickly extricates himself from the booth. 

It must be twenty degrees outside, but it helps Bucky sober up. It also helps him realize that what just happened…happened. 

Bucky spies someone else at the bow of the ship, arms on the railing and he makes his way over. It’s Tony.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Bucky says, coming up beside him.

Tony glances over and then back up at the horizon. “Barnes,” he replies.

Bucky notices the tips of Tony’s ears and nose are bright red. “How long you been out here?”

Tony shrugs a shoulder and says, “Ah, the whole time?”

“Are you crazy? It’s freezing!”

Tony shakes his head and then smiles humorlessly at Bucky. “Nah, it’s fine. I, uh… Well, don’t tell anybody I said this cause I’d never live it down but this whole booze cruise thing?” Tony twirls his finger in the air. “It may have been a mistake.”

“Bet you got a killer deal, though,” Bucky says with a wry smile. He leans on the railing and looks down at the dark, choppy water.

Tony snorts a laugh. “You’re not wrong. But, uh, I feel like a shit for doing this.” He sighs and drops his head between his arms. “God, I’m an idiot.” Tony inhales deeply and then stands straight. “I’m a fucking alcoholic. I know that. And Pepper… She tries so hard for me and I just…” Tony’s jaw tightens. “I try to make excuses, but I’m just a shit head who doesn’t deserve her and I pull this shit.” He turns and leans his back against the railing, looking into the bright windows of the cabin.

“Have you had a drink?”

Tony smiles a little. “No.” He pauses. “Not yet.”

“Well, that’s something.” Bucky is totally out of his depth and maybe Tony realizes because he changes the subject.

“How’s the party going? Still fun, even without me?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you chose to stand outside in winter on a boat so it can’t be that fun.”

Bucky chuckles. “Yeah, well, things got a little too…personal for a second. Had to take a breath.”

“Personal? Oh shit, did I miss some juicy gossip?”

“Nah, nothing so dramatic. Steve and Brock set a date for their wedding.”

“No shit! That’s great!” Tony stares at Bucky for a long moment and it makes Bucky’s skin crawl. “Or…maybe not so great?”

Bucky shrugs and stares down at the water, knowing he’s about to say something he can’t take back and really not caring at the moment. “Steve’s…great. It’s great. I’m real happy for them.”

“But…?”

Bucky sighs. “But…God!” Bucky hits his hand against the metal railing. “Brock is such a _dick_! And Steve…he sees it but he still…”

Tony hums in understanding. “And I’m assuming you’re invested because you are…such a good friend?”

Bucky looks at Tony and rolls his eyes. “If it were only that simple.”

“Well, look, Barnes. I’ll tell you something. When I met Pepper, she was dating this hot shot environmental lawyer. Dude was the picture of perfect boyfriend material. And I was polite and kept my distance, didn’t do anything too obnoxious, which is a feat in and of itself, as you well know. I just…didn’t give up.” Tony puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezes. “Never ever _ever_ give up.”

Bucky shakes his head and his eyes burn embarrassingly with tears. “He’s engaged.”

“Pfft. Engaged ain’t married!”

Bucky chokes out a laugh. He wishes he had Tony’s optimism.


	5. The Rumor

Bucky is scrolling mindlessly through his Twitter feed when a paper bag plops in front of him, actually making him jump a little. There’d been no one in the break room and he hadn’t heard anyone come in. Fortunately, it’s just Steve who pulls out the chair across from Bucky and digs into his lunch. 

“Staying awake?” Steve asks.

“Barely,” Bucky replies with an exaggerated frown. 

Steve snorts a laugh. 

Bucky’s chest warms at the sight and allows himself an elongated glance while Steve organizes his sandwich, napkin, and apple in front of him. He’s grateful to have their friendship back on track. The lack of sarcastic banter had actually been killing him.

Steve clears his throat as he chews, eyes on his phone. “Um, oh yeah! I have…” Steve pulls a small envelope from somewhere and casually slides it toward Bucky. 

Bucky stares at the envelope, confused for a moment, before he realizes what it is. “Oh,” he says and his throat goes dry. He picks up the envelope and pops open the back.

“Yeah, I figured I’d give ‘em out here at work instead of mailing them. Easier and,” Steve laughs, “cheaper.”

Bucky pulls out the little piece of cardstock. It’s simple, understated—silver border, few embellishments. Bucky reads, _Please join us for the wedding of Steven Rogers and Brock Rumlow on June 10 at half-past four o’clock in the afternoon._ Bucky’s vision tunnels and the rest—an address, RSVP information—all runs together. 

“You don’t have to mail the RSVP card back if you want to just give it to me now or, um, whenever,” Steve says.

Bucky nods and forces himself into something of a composure. “Uh, yeah, great. This looks…great!” He can’t quite look Steve in the eye. “I’ll definitely…get back to you.”

“Okay, great!” Steve says cheerily and continues eating his lunch. 

Bucky has lost his appetite.

* * *

Sam is staring at Bucky. He’s not being very secretive about that fact, but when Bucky glances up, Sam quickly turns his attention back to his computer. After the fourth time, Bucky’s fed up.

“What?!” Bucky demands.

“Hm?” Sam replies innocently, glancing up at Bucky with his eyebrows raised.

“Why are you looking at me? Is there something on my face or what?”

Sam frowns and shakes his head innocently. “No idea what you’re… Look, I’m super busy.” He goes back to typing.

Bucky huffs and tries to get back to his own work, but then he notices another set of eyes on him. Strangely, Bruce is standing in the corner holding a cup of coffee and just _staring_ at Bucky. Bucky blinks and it seems to shake Bruce awake as he comes over. He crouches next to Bucky and says, “Hey, man. How are you doing?”

“I’m…confused. Sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Bruce pulls his glasses off his nose and starts wiping them clean with a handkerchief. “No, no, of course not. I’m just saying…if you wanted to take a few days, a little time for yourself, no one would blame you.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “I…I’m sorry, what is this about?”

Bruce’s eyes travel up and over Bucky’s shoulder to where he knows Steve is and Bucky’s face flushes. “I don’t understand,” Bucky hisses, eyes wide.

Bruce clears his throat and finally replaces his glasses. He puts a comforting hand on Bucky’s arm and says, “Tony may have let slip that you have feelings for a certain coworker and as the HR rep, I just thought I’d—”

“Sorry, Tony did _what_?!” Bucky’s raised voice catches several other eyes, but he’s beyond caring at this point. “Excuse me,” he says and immediately marches into Tony’s office without a knock.

Tony’s hunched over his desk with a screwdriver in one hand, tinkering with a motherboard of some kind. He doesn’t look up until Bucky slams the door behind him and even then, he spares only a quick glance before focusing back on his project.

“Barnes, what can I do for you?”

“Who did you tell?”

Tony looks up again and this time puts down the screwdriver and leans back in his chair. “Sorry?”

“Who the fuck else did you tell that—what I told you on the cruise. Because somehow Bruce knows and _Sam_?! Are you fucking kidding me, Tony?”

Tony’s brow furrows. “It may have come up in conversation with Bruce. You know…just part of a concern-based conversation.” Tony scratches his cheek thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, and it’s possible Sam was in the room because it was in the breakroom which was—”

“Who else knows?” Bucky cuts in. His fists shake at his side and he’s barely keeping himself from physically lashing out.

Tony shrugs and looks so unconcerned, it takes all Bucky has in him to storm back out of his office without assaulting him. He sits at his desk and stares furiously, blankly at his computer screen, pointedly ignoring the stares from all around him. 

After a few minutes to let his blood pressure settle, Bucky stands, walks over to Steve and says, “Hey, do you have a minute?”

Steve looks genuinely confused at the serious look on Bucky’s face, but nods and comes around his desk to follow Bucky into the empty breakroom.

“Everything all right?” Steve asks as soon as they’re alone and the door is closed behind them.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair and imagines smacking Tony across the face. It gives him the strength to power through this conversation. “So, I’m not sure if you’ve heard any…rumors, maybe, going around the office?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “No, I don’t think so. Is everyone okay? Did something happen?”

The relief Bucky feels is palpable and for a second, he considers just letting it go and praying that somehow this stupid information never gets to Steve. But Bucky knows where he works and it’s a miracle Steve hasn’t heard yet as it is.

Bucky clears his throat. “Ah, yeah, well, remember during the booze cruise that I sort of disappeared for a bit…”

Steve nods slowly.

“I ran into Tony outside and got to talking. And I was, y’know, tipsy. And I guess Tony was looking exceptionally pathetic because I told him something that I shouldn’t have and now he’s told other people in the office and I’m an idiot.” Bucky sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. 

Steve reaches out and grips Bucky’s arm and it sends chills up Bucky’s back. “Hey, whatever it is…you can tell me.”

Bucky lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s the thing. Um, and I wanted you to hear it from me because what I told Tony is that when you first started working here, I had, like, the tiniest crush on you. That’s all. And obviously that’s over. I mean, you and Brock… Besides, you’re my best friend. I really wouldn’t want to ruin that just because I’m lonely and—why are you smiling?”

Steve’s grinning, looking downright thrilled. “A crush, huh?”

Bucky can feel his face burning. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

Steve laughs and punches Bucky on the arm. “Christ, Barnes, I thought you were gonna tell me someone in the office was dying! A crush… Honestly. Give me a fuckin’ heart attack.”

Bucky laughs a little and says, “Yeah, well, you know Tony. Always making things out to be bigger than they are. Definitely didn’t want you to hear it from him.”

* * *

Bucky’s dodged a bullet. A big one. And by the time the end of work rolls around, most everyone has gone back to _not_ staring at Bucky, which is a blessing. He’s almost sure he’s gotten away with it.

Almost.

Because he goes to leave at the end of the day, pulling on his jacket and waiting for Steve. And Steve is…flustered. He’s red in the face and the tips of his ears are bright pink and he’s shuffling a bunch of papers but he keeps dropping them and then eventually he gives up and, head down, grabs his jacket. He pulls it on without even looking at Bucky.

“You okay there, Steve?” Bucky asks.

“What?” Steve replies, finally looking up at Bucky. He immediately looks away, somewhere past Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky’s stomach drops.

As they leave, Bucky looks back and sees Tony standing in the doorway of his office, a dumb, smug look on his face and Bucky wonders if…

But Tony wouldn’t be that much of an asshole, right?

* * *

June is months away and yet it feels like tomorrow. Steve is doing all the planning at work, which Bucky is trying so hard to not act weird about, but there’s only so many excuses he can make about how terrible he would be at helping before Steve will start to notice. So instead, Bucky actually works. 

Bucky is reminded that he’s actually really goddamn good at his job. He’s always been a bit of a chameleon, capable of schmoozing and telling the client exactly what they want to hear. He chalks it up to years of having to pretend to be straight. 

In a month, his sales numbers are excessively good. At some point Sam started to compete, which took the sting out of the fact that Bucky was only _trying_ in order to avoid Steve. At least he could humiliate Sam in the process.

Sam isn’t the only one to notice Bucky’s sudden stellar performance.

“So we’d love for you to join us here at headquarters!”

Bucky swallows and blinks his eyes and presses the phone closer to his ear because he’s not sure he heard right.

Wade’s tinny voice comes back through the phone. “Buck? Did I lose ya?”

Bucky clears his throat. “Ah, no, no. Sorry, no. I’m here. Um, sorry. I’m not quite…understanding.”

Wade laughs and Bucky’s heart actually skips a beat. They haven’t seen each other in months—since the booze cruise, actually—and Bucky does miss him a little. 

“We’re offering you a position. Here. In New York. You’d be a sales manager. Head up a whole team. Your numbers are phenomenal, Bucky, and I have no idea what’s inspired this sudden love of salesmanship, but you’ve been noticed.”

“Oh. Shit. Okay.”

“Well, think it over. I’ll send you an email with the job specs and everything. Get me an answer by the end of the week?”

Bucky glances up and over toward Steve’s desk. He’s chatting quietly, but excitedly, with Natasha. They’re passing various pieces of fancy stationary back and forth. There’s silver and gold ribbon on the desk, half unspooled. 

Bucky already knows his answer.


	6. Casino Night

Since the booze cruise, Stark has been unusually philanthropic. He’s come up with half a dozen schemes for charity events that usually fizzle out into nothing. Casino night, however, stuck. It probably has something to do with the fact that folks at the office are far more into the idea of winning actually money than running a marathon. Plus, there’s going to be alcohol, which Bucky knows can’t be legal since the event is taking place in their warehouse, but he’s not going to be a narc about it. 

After all, this is likely to be his last office party. He officially transfers to headquarters in a week. He hasn’t told anyone at the office about it yet, and he plans to keep it that way until the very last minute. He supposes he has to tell Stark eventually, but that’s a conversation for a later date. 

For tonight, at least, Bucky is just going to enjoy himself. He’s going to soak up the office gossip, watch these acquaintances-turned-reluctant-friends get wasted and lose a ton of money, and just…enjoy.

His mood takes an immediate hit when he arrives and sees Steve is with Brock. It’s even worse because the dress code is formal and they’re both wearing suits and Steve looks incredible in his form-fitting tux and black tie, but Bucky just pictures their wedding and suddenly he’s tired and ready to head home to binge Netflix.

“Barnes! You clean up nice.” Natasha sidles up and slips her arm through his. She’s wearing a devastatingly tight, red dress and Bucky finds himself wondering if he might be bisexual after all.

Natasha drags him into the warehouse which is, he has to admit, a sight to see. It’s covered in fairy lights and several green-felt tables are already surrounded by folks laughing and cheering as cards are dealt and dice are rolled. There’s even a working roulette.

“Come blow on my dice,” Natasha says and leads Bucky to a table where Sam (looking rather handsome in his suit and tie, Bucky is chagrined to admit), Clint, Fury, and Tony are. It’s craps, Bucky thinks, although his expertise in the matter starts and stops with James Bonds movies.

The night goes on and Bucky does find himself loosening up. He barely sees Steve at all, although he can’t help but glance around every once in a while. The booze makes him feel light and after a vodka tonic or two, he’s decided he has to at least talk to Steve. This may very well be the last time he sees him outside of work. Steve deserves to hear from Bucky about the transfer, anyway. May as well do it tonight.

Bucky gets his chance as the event winds down. Most folks are sitting at the hightop tables placed around the games and talking and laughing with each other, empty drinks in their hands. Bucky’s listening to Thor talk about Scandinavian culture or something when he notices Brock and Steve part ways, Brock heading toward the exit. Steve heads back into the fray and finds Natasha at a table on the other end of the floor.

Bucky takes his chance and stands. He finds he’s actually pretty sober. Probably too sober to have this conversation, but too late now. He’s on a mission. He snakes his way through the crowd to the other end and stands next to Steve.

Steve starts a little when he realizes Bucky is next to him, but then a wonderful smile crosses his face. “Buck!” He takes a step back and actually looks Bucky up and down. He lets out a low whistle. “You clean up nice.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but feels himself blushing just the same. 

“I said the same thing,” Natasha replies with a small smile. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Bucky replies and then, because he’s lost his mind, he ruffles Steve’s perfectly coiffed hair.

“Hey!” Steve shouts and quickly presses his hands down on his head to try and fix the mess. But then he laughs and Bucky grins.

“Wanna take a walk?” Bucky asks. 

Some emotion flashes across Steve’s face, but it’s gone too quickly for Bucky to read. “Yeah, it’s getting warm in here,” Steve replies and they head outside.

It’s cool, but the late March weather seems to have finally turned its back on below-freezing temps, at least for the moment. Bucky takes a deep breath as they leisurely walk around the side of the building toward the parking lot. 

There’s a certain, unexplainable freedom Bucky is feeling in the pit of his stomach that makes him giddy. And instead of shying away from the topic, he asks, “So, how’s the wedding planning?”

Steve slows as they come to a large tree and they stop to stand under it. “Stressful,” Steve says. “But it’s coming along.” He smiles a little up at Bucky and pushes his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. “We’ve basically got the catering figured out, so it’s really just down to the flowers and the c—”

“Steve, I’m in love with you.”

Time slows, stops. Bucky’s heart is in his throat and behind his eyes and pounding and he’s half-convinced he didn’t even say what he just said, except that Steve is looking at Bucky like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Buck, I—”

“I’ve been in love with you since pretty much day one,” Bucky says and he lets out a desperate, choked laugh. “And I know—Brock…but—”

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice is strange, pitched slightly too high, but firm nonetheless. “I’m…sorry.”

And that’s it. The crushing wave of defeat settles over Bucky like a cold, damp blanket.

“I really value our friendship,” Steve continues. “I’m sorry if I ever made you think—”

Bucky waves his hand in front of him. “No, no. It’s… I just needed you to know before I…”

“Before what?”

Bucky swallows, shrugs a shoulder, and says, “I’m transferring. To headquarters. I got a promotion so I’m taking it. Next week is my last.”

Steve’s expression is hard to read, stuck somewhere between distraught and surprised. “That’s… Wow, that’s… Congrats!”

“Yeah, well, anyway. I’m sorry I’ll miss your wedding, but the travel is…”

“Oh. Right. Sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Bucky’s gone insane. It’s the only explanation. After he and Steve departed, Bucky bee-lined to his car where he sat for what felt like hours just reliving the conversation over and over again. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, should’ve just told Steve about the transfer and let this stupid crush die with the distance.

Except…Bucky feels lighter than he’s felt in _years_. And maybe that’s part of it. Maybe there’s a little too much vodka still coursing through his veins—whatever the reason, he’s out of his car and heading into the office where he saw Steve disappear.

Bucky takes the stairs, giving himself time to convince himself it’s a bad idea, but he has to know. He _has to_.

It’s dark and all the lights are out but the emergency ones, giving the familiar office an unfamiliar tone. Bucky slows to a stop in the entryway to the office proper when he hears a low voice. It’s unmistakably Steve and he seems to be talking to someone. Bucky nearly backtracks, but then he realizes the conversation is one-sided and Steve must be on the phone. 

“I don’t know, Ma,” Steve says. He sounds…desperate. And a wet sniff gives away that he’s been crying. “I’m totally lost and I…” He pauses as his mother talks. It’s a long pause and then Steve says, “Yeah, okay. I love you, too.”

Bucky’s feet are moving before he can rethink any of this. Steve’s sitting on the floor with his back against the reception desk, knees bent up, and his cell phone in his limp hand. He looks up when Bucky enters, and then he quickly gets to his feet. He wipes away stray tears from his face.

“Bucky.”

“Sorry, I just…” And Bucky closes the gap between them, pressing his mouth against Steve’s. He has a moment to think that that’s it and he starts to pull away, with the full knowledge that this whole thing really was one-sided, that Bucky has imagined something that never was.

But then Steve kisses him back and there’s every bit of desperation behind it, but Bucky couldn’t care less because _he’s kissing Steve_ and _Steve is kissing him back_ and it’s perfect in every way.

Steve pulls back first and they’re both out of breath and flushed from head to toe.

“Steve—”

“I’m going to marry Brock.”

Bucky’s heart stops dead in its tracks and the world seems to crumble from beneath his feet. “Steve—”

Steve is crying, silent tears falling down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says and he breezes past Bucky and out the door.

* * *

Bucky has already accepted the fact that his last week is going to be absolutely miserable. He even considers calling in sick, but he can’t spare the time. So on Monday morning, he simply braces himself for a silent and awkward final week of keeping his head down.

And Bucky is doing just that, dutifully plugging away on a spreadsheet when he hears, “Hey, Barnes.”

Bucky looks up in surprise to see Brock standing at the front of the office. Bucky can read hostility in every inch of the guy’s body, which is saying something because the guy is hostile just by default. But now his fists are curled and his face is hard and mean with determination.

“Brock, what are you—?” Steve starts, but Brock prowls toward Bucky and his fist cocks back and Bucky doesn’t even have time to brace or duck or put his hands up when—

Brock yells out and his hands fly to his eyes. Bucky’s totally bewildered until it hits him too and then he reels back in his chair, jumps to his feet, and jogs as far as he can from the offending spray. When Bucky finally catches his breath, he looks over to see Sam standing with his hand outstretched and in it, a can of pepper spray. It had clearly hit its mark with deft precision as Brock is yelling and coughing loudly on the ground. No one in the office seems to know what to do until Bucky hears Fury on the phone behind him talking to security. Brock is quickly escorted out and then comes the onslaught of questions.

“What the hell did you do to him, Bucky?” Thor asks.

“Jesus, did you see the way he looked at him? He was going for blood, man,” Clint chimed in.

“Where’d Steve go?” Bruce asked. Then, turning back to Bucky, “I’m gonna have to get a statement from you about this.”

Bucky nods, not quite trusting his voice given all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

“Are you okay?” Jane asks.

Bucky nods and finally chokes out, “Yes. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Thanks to Sam,” Natasha says.

Bucky glances over at Sam who is ceremoniously cleaning the pepper spray bottle and placing it neatly in his desk drawer. “Yeah. Yeah. Thanks, Sam. Seriously.” He takes a few steps out of the crowd that’s gathered around him to offer his hand to Sam. “You, uh, really helped me out there.”

Sam looks at Bucky’s hand with a look of derision. “No thanks necessary. I saw the assailant was perturbed and took the appropriate steps toward deescalating the situation.”

Bucky doesn’t budge, keeping his hand out. Sam seems to soften a little and takes Bucky’s hand and shakes it.

“I have to ask,” Bruce says, “but do you have any idea why Brock would want to hurt you?”

Bucky spares another look around the room for Steve, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “I have no clue,” Bucky says. “Honestly.”

* * *

Steve doesn’t return for the rest of the day. Bucky considers texting him just to make sure he’s okay, but he has no idea where their friendship is at considering the events of the last weekend. 

At the end of the day, Bucky packs up his stuff. He’s the last one out of the door and into the parking lot. He gives a wave to Thor as he drives past. He notices that Steve’s car is still in the parking lot and then realizes Steve is there, leaning against the driver’s side door. He sees Bucky coming and pushes off the door.

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s not even sure where to begin with that question. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry about Brock. I had no idea he’d—”

“Yeah, well, he did,” Bucky bites back with a bit more hostility than he means to.

Steve visibly recoils.

Bucky shakes his head. “You told him, didn’t you? That’s why he was pissed?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

Bucky sighs and then shrugs, totally defeated. “I have no idea, Steve. Can we just…forget it happened?”

“Buck—”

“It’s fine, really.” Bucky musters up a smile. “One more week and you won’t have to deal with me anymore. Things can go back to normal. Brock has nothing to worry about.” With that, Bucky continues on to his car, climbs inside, and drives off.


	7. The Return

Life at the new branch is…banal. Bucky wakes every morning in his new apartment and takes the subway into work and doesn’t talk to too many people once he’s there. He does his job and he does it well; unfortunately, the position of sales manager doesn’t allow for nearly as much downtime as just a salesman. The team he heads is made up of mostly married, middle-aged folks who want nothing more than to get the job done and get home and Bucky doesn’t hold that against them. He rarely sees Wade, which is fine, honestly. Bucky is still healing from a relationship that didn’t even happen, so he’s hardly in the right place to be in a real one.

The summer months come and go. On June 10th, Bucky gives a passing thought to Steve and Brock’s nuptials, and the obsessive part of his brain almost convinces him to create a Facebook just so he can feed the curiosity, but he has enough self-respect now to know it’d cause nothing but pain.

Summer turns to fall and then winter hits hard and fast. Christmas looms closer and Avengers Security’s annual gala draws near. It’s always held at headquarters, so Bucky’s never gone before; the Stark branch was always invited, but they opted for the cheaper homegrown holiday office parties. Bucky decides to go to the gala if only because his therapist (which he desperately needed and he knows that now, thank God) says he needs to get out of the house more.

It’s a fancy affair with champagne in flutes and strange appetizers on shiny, metal plates that waiters in actual bowties come around with wearing white gloves. Bucky almost feels like he fits in. He’s even chopped his long hair down to a “respectable” length, mostly out of some semblance of propriety given his new management position. He desperately misses it.

He’s been mingling for a half hour or so when a familiar bob of bright red hair catches his eye. He snakes through the crowd and touches the pale shoulder to find Natasha turning to face him. Her eyes light up and she smiles. “Bucky! Oh my gosh, how are you?” She throws her arms around his neck and he hugs her back, a little surprised at her genuine joy and even more surprised by how much he apparently desperately needed a hug.

“I’m great!” he says and they pull back. “What are you doing here?”

“Another of Stark’s philanthropic decisions,” she says. “He paid for all of us to come.”

“No shit. That’s great! Wait, so…”

One of Natasha’s perfect eyebrows arches up. “Yeah, the gang’s all here. Thor’s over there, Fury, Clint,” she points to each among the crowd as she names them, “Sam is in that group somewhere. Tony disappeared basically as soon as we showed up and oh! There’s Steve.”

Bucky’s eyes follow Natasha’s slender finger into the crowd until they land on Steve. He’s got his back turned to them. He’s standing with Bruce and Loki, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a half empty glass of champagne.

“Go talk to him, dumb ass,” Natasha hisses and pushes Bucky _hard_ into the crowd. He nearly stumbles over his feet, but catches himself before causing any damage.

He pushes through until he’s able to reach out a hand and clasp Steve’s upper arm lightly to get his attention. “Fancy meeting you here,” Bucky says and nearly winces at how cliché and stupid he sounds.

Steve turns and Bucky’s embarrassment is gone at the sight of him. It’s been nearly a year, a whole damn _year_ of zero contact, physical or emotional or social or whatever and still, _still_ Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat with just one look at those eyes and that mouth and—

“Bucky!” Steve exclaims. He reaches up and pulls Bucky into a hug, which catches Bucky off-guard, considering how their last few interactions went. Then, he goes pliant and embraces Steve back. “Oh my God, it’s been forever. How have you been?”

Bucky motions with his head toward a quieter corner with an empty hightop table and Steve follows him over. Once they’re settled, Bucky says, “I’ve been good. Really good.”

“Yeah? You like the new job?”

Bucky hesitates. The answer, logically, is yes. But it’s not the same as what he had before. It’s not the same without…

“New job’s amazing,” Bucky says with a smile. 

“The hair is…” Steve’s eyebrows arch up, then down. “It’s different.”

Bucky laughs and he thinks it might be his first real laugh in a while. He runs a hand along the sides of his cropped hair and says, “Yeah, I know. Needed a change, I guess.”

“It’s nice,” Steve says. 

“Well, so, how about you? How was the wedding?”

Steve colors and Bucky can’t help his eyes traveling down to Steve’s left hand where—

Where—

Nothing. There’s nothing.

Steve’s hand slides off the table and into his lap. “Ah, yeah, well, things didn’t work out.” He gives a humorless laugh.

“Ah, geez, I’m sorry. That’s…”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly truthful, um, before. I mean…” Steve huffs out a laugh. “I’m just gonna say this because if I don’t, then… I don’t know, but I don’t want things to be…awkward.”

“Okay…”

“I broke up with Brock after…casino night. After we…” Steve is looking everywhere but at Bucky. “Well, I told Brock and I told him…I was confused and I needed some time but he completely flipped out, which is…understandable. But I realized I just wasn’t happy with him, I guess. And, um, I’m sorry, for what he did. I can’t help but feel like I…”

“Steve, no, no. That wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I was a little…emotional.” 

Steve lets out a long breath and then smiles, finally looking at Bucky again. “It feels good to get that out.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah. And it’s…really good to talk to you again, Steve. I missed you.”

Steve grins. “You too.”

Bucky lets the moment hang there a second too long before he asks, “So, what else is new?”

“Oh! Well, actually a lot. I moved out, obviously. And I, um, started online classes.”

“That’s great! For what?”

“Well, remember when I got accepted into art school—?”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you’re in fuckin’ art school!” Bucky yells, probably louder than is appropriate for a fancy work gala, but he doesn’t regret it. In fact, he hops out of his seat and squashes Steve in a massive hug. 

“Buuuuck,” Steve groans, but Bucky knows he must be smiling like an idiot; he can hear it in his voice.

“That is freaking amazing,” Bucky continues, pulling back but keeping his hands on either of Steve’s shoulders. Steve looks abashed. “Seriously, I am so proud. You’re an incredible artist.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says. “Enough about me.” He pushes Bucky away and Bucky takes his seat again.

They end up spending the whole night talking. Bucky’s heart is so full and for the first time in a long time, he feels at ease with everything. And once the party is over, Steve and Bucky promise to stay in touch. Bucky’s determined to make it happen.

* * *

But, as these things often go, they lose touch. Life gets in the way, work gets busy, Steve is slammed with homework, and the conversation simply dies.

* * *

Steve is nervous. He has no reason to be nervous, he knows that. The fact that Stark finally got around to hiring a new salesman more than a year after Bucky left shouldn’t come as a surprise. But Steve can’t help wondering who this person is. As office dynamics go, Bucky’s departure left an absence in the office felt by most, but most acutely by Steve. He loves Natasha and he gets along fine with Thor and Clint and most everyone, but Bucky…

Bucky was his best friend, in spite of all that happened. Steve feels a familiar pang of guilt and makes a note—the hundredth in as many days—to text Bucky and see how he’s doing.

Steve busies himself putting together the new employee packet, including new hire paperwork and the employee handbook. Anything to keep busy. He’s lost himself in a doodle at his desk when he hears someone clear their throat.

Steve’s head snaps up.

“Hey, stranger.”

Steve stares, wide-eyed and totally lost. “Bucky?”

And it is him—in the flesh! His hair is longer now, although not quite as long as Steve likes it. He quickly buries that thought and instead asks, “What are you doing here?”

Bucky’s brow furrows handsomely and he turns around to stare into Tony’s office. Sure enough, the man is standing in the doorway grinning like a maniac. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Barnes,” Tony says. He extends a hand, which Bucky shakes enthusiastically. “Happy to be back, sir.”

“Back… You’re back? You’re back!” Steve exclaims. “You’re the new salesman!”

“Well, not exactly new,” Bucky replies, turning back to Steve with a grin.

Steve lets out a surprised laugh. “Unbelievable. You didn’t say anything! You could’ve texted or called or _something_.”

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. “Where’s the fun in that?”

* * *

The day is mostly wasted at that point. Everyone gathers around Bucky and they spend hours talking about what life is like at headquarters and in New York City. As much as Bucky seemed to like the city and his job when Steve spoke to him, Bucky is far more forthright now about the grind that was being a manager. It’s the reason he returned, apparently.

Steve is able to catch up a bit more with him at lunch in the breakroom. It almost feels like things are back to normal. _Almost_ , because there is something strange and electric that Steve can’t help but feel whenever Bucky’s just a little too close. 

Steve quickly puts those thoughts to rest. He’s glad to have his best friend back and he’s happy to get things back to the way they were before.

He and Bucky are the last to leave for the day and he can’t tell if it’s on purpose, but Bucky takes so long getting his things together that the rest of the office has left the parking lot by the time they take their first steps out of the building.

“God, I’m starving,” Bucky says as they meander towards their respective cars, which are parked next to each other.

“I have leftover Chinese just calling my name,” Steve replies.

“How does that help me, huh?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was bending to your every whim and desire. Shall I cook you a meal tonight, Mr. Barnes?” Steve puts on an affected, austere accent.

“Hey, if you’re offering,” Bucky says.

Steve snorts. “You wouldn’t accept if you knew how poorly I cook.”

“I _do_ know how poorly you cook, if you’ll recount the raw spaghetti incident of 2014.”

Steve groans. “God, I’d forgotten about that.”

“And I still want you to cook me something nice,” Bucky continues.

Steve laughs as they make it to his car first. When Bucky doesn’t laugh with him, Steve looks up at him curiously. Bucky looks hesitant and kind of shy, which is so strangely out of character for him that Steve is a bit stunned.

“What?” Steve says. “Are you serious?”

Bucky swallows and shrugs slightly. “If you’ll have me.”

“Buck…” Steve tries to read him, tries to see what Bucky wants him to do. And he thinks he knows. He prays he understands. He reaches up and places a hand on Bucky’s face. Bucky leans into it, almost imperceptibly. Then, Steve kisses him. Softly at first, but it quickly heats up until Steve’s back is pressed against his car and Bucky is crowding him against it. There’s no room between them and Steve’s hands don’t know where to land—chest, stomach, back, neck, face. Bucky’s hands are a solid weight on Steve’s hips and Steve can’t believe how right and good it feels. 

A wolf whistle sounds and they immediately wrench away from one another. Steve whips his head around to where Sam and Natasha are walking hand-in-hand toward the other end of the parking lot.

“Y’all just lost me fifty bucks!” Sam calls out and sure enough, he’s rifling through his wallet to pry a bill out and hand it to Natasha who pockets it with a smile.

“You boys have fun!” she says and she hops on her motorcycle that Steve hadn’t noticed parked around the corner. Sam sits behind her.

“I was going to be embarrassed about being caught out like a couple of horny teenagers, but seeing Sam ride bitch actually makes me feel good about this whole thing,” Bucky says.

Steve laughs lightly at first, and then it quickly picks up volume until he’s completely bent over, hysterical.

“All right, pal. Let’s get you home. I’m hungry for a horrible meal made by the one and only Steve Rogers.”

Steve collects himself with some effort and then slides his hand into Bucky’s. It’s warm and sure. “You drive,” he says.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, but obliges and they drive away, leaving Steve’s car behind. Steve figures he won’t need it this weekend; he has Bucky.


End file.
